Birds of Prey: Twisted Desire

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Eyewitness

Barbara Gordon liked to think that she was a relatively normal young woman. A normal young woman with a healthy, normal mind. Even enduring the streets of Gotham as a crimefighter couldn't kill Barbara's spirit or drain her the way it drained too many rising police officers.

She wasn't screwed in the head like Bruce, Jason, or even Kate. At least, that's what she firmly believed until the events of these last few days.

Barbara had watched hours of homemade pornography starring one of her closest friends without objection. She had made out with a handsy teen boy with zero hesitation. And just the other day, she'd sent her best friend into the very same lion's den with nary a second thought.

And now…

Now, Barbara was witnessing first hand the fruits of her twisted labor. Dinah Lance, the Black Canary, was on her knees. Barbara Gordon's best friend, Batgirl's staunchest ally, the blonde powerhouse of the Birds of Prey, choking on one of the biggest, fattest cocks she had ever laid eyes upon. The young man it was attached to, Matt Reston, had his handsome face twisted into a snarl, his hands cradling Dinah's head as he pummeled his thick prick into her gullet.

It was like a scene pulled from a nightmare, a terror from the deepest, darkest part of Barbara's mind. Yet she could not look away. And the sounds! So obscene they were, lewd slurps and gurgles carrying across the near-empty garden and into Barbara's ears. It was the horrific melody of Dinah's violation.

Oh my God…

From her hiding spot in the bushes, Barbara could do little but look on in despair as the once-proud Black Canary slurped and slobbered over the teen kingpin's manhood.

Helena was there too - and helping Reston! On her knees right beside Dinah, the raven-haired woman's bright, lustful eyes were fixated upon the sexual humiliation of her blonde friend. The sexual creature who used to be Huntress wore a delighted smile as she held the back of Dinah's head, forcing the blonde to take Reston's cock as deep as her poor throat would allow. Helena pushed - shoved Dinah's face forward until the other woman's nose was nearly flattened against Reston's groin. And then she held

Barbara could hear the younger man grunt in satisfaction. She could see his sculpted body growing tense. Next came the harrowing sound of Dinah moaning so pitifully around the teen's massive cock. But Helena's gleeful cooing that followed was even worse.

Barbara gave a small, quiet gasp as Reston tightened his hold on Dinah's head. The hung teen huffed through his nose, snarling like a beast in rut as he gave one final thrust into the blonde's mouth.

It was macho bullshit, the final planting of the flag. Dinah gave another, smaller moan around the cock stuffed down her well-fucked throat and Barbara felt her own stomach drop. It was unmistakable what she had just witnessed. Matt Reston just fucked Dinah's throat… to completion. And with Helena's dutiful help!

Barbara felt something worse than dread: Complete and utter failure. She had just sat back and watched as the monster of this story violated her best friend. She had done nothing but gape as the teen belted Dinah's throat with a big load of his hot, sticky, vile cum.

Dinah retreated then, falling back onto her ass as every inch of Reston's prick came sliding from her well-abused mouth. Barbara got a good view of the mammoth monstrosity Dinah had been forced to endure. Obscenely large and slick with Dinah's spit, Reston's manhood still brought about a loathing respect in Barbara. Seeing it on a grainy home video was one thing, but seeing it in person…?

I'm so sorry, Dinah… God forgive me…

The unthinkable happened next: the fearless Batgirl turned tail and fled.

Leaping back from her hiding spot in the bushes, Barbara bolted from the scene. Dinah, Helena, Reston, they might very well have heard her… Or perhaps the twisted trio were too preoccupied with each other to notice the slender redhead making her quick escape. Barbara didn't care. She needed to get away. Far away. Find a place where she could think and… purge her mind of the filth she had just witnessed.

Her heart racing, hammering in her chest, Barbara raced down the empty walkways of the moonlit campus. Her boots clapped against the brickwork, loud thuds accompanying each footfall. It was sloppy escape work. If nobody had heard her untangling herself from the bushes, then they definitely heard her running away.

There was little doubt in Barbara's mind: This had been Batgirl's worst showing in years.

When Barbara finally returned to her dorm room, she was in a daze. It was an odd sensation that she felt as the door clicked shut behind her. Emotionally, she was a storm. The terrible, striking image of Dinah on her knees was burned into her brain. The waking nightmare played within her mind, an endless film reel that couldn't be turned off. Barbara couldn't force herself to forget it. No, it was there to stay. Forever.

Physically, Barbara was worse. If witnessing Dinah being violated didn't send her heart rate spiking, then the sprint back to the teacher's dorm certainly did. Her lungs ached. Her blood boiled. Her skin… It tingled.

Tingled? That didn't feel right.

Even absolutely rocked as she was, Barbara still had enough sense to know she should have been hit with a clear sense of revulsion.

Indeed, there was a sense of disgust. It was right alongside an equally real burning pit of anger. But those feelings weren't as overwhelming as she expected them to be. A heroine watching another heroine being debased and degraded by some macho pig of a man? Surely, something so unthinkable would trigger some primal rage in a woman?

But primal feelings were triggered… They just weren't the primal feelings Barbara Gordon expected to have. The redhead took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slowly. There was a shiver that crept down her back, dancing across her skin. And deeper inside, there was a stirring. Like hot water starting to bubble over a fire.

Barbara didn't like those feelings. Not one bit. Nor did she like the implications that came with them. There was a mirror being held up to the inner workings of her mind just then. A reflection into her deepest, darkest thoughts. Her truest self. And at that moment, Barbara just didn't have the nerve to look.

The redhead mentally put the mirror aside and took another deep breath… Which was quickly followed by a sound. A keening whine came from Barbara's lips as the motion of her chest rising caused her hardened nipples to brush softly against the fabric of her sweater.

Barbara blinked.

Hard nipples… She realized then, her heart leaping into her throat. What the fuck?

Unthinking, she brought her hands up to cup her breasts, to run her fingers over the soft, sensitive flesh. She didn't know why she did it. Maybe she just wanted to be sure, to check with the dim hope that this was just some fucked up nightmare and that she would wake up back in her apartment in Gotham.

Barbara ran her thumbs slowly but firmly across the two stiff tips that poked through her sweater… And moaned as a small shock of pleasure shot right down to her core.

"Fuck!" Barbara shrieked, her hands dropping from her body as if her skin was a thousand degrees. Her legs gave out from under her and she slumped back against the door, sliding weakly to the ground. The redhead gave another moan, half in despair and half… something else.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?"